


The Maze Hiker

by AmyHarbon



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Dead Chuck, Dead Theresa, Gen, In the Glade, Maybe a relationship idk, Multi, New Girl - Freeform, Not much else I guess, So Grievers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2595026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyHarbon/pseuds/AmyHarbon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, everything was back to normal, and then. BOOM. </p><p> The Newbie Alarm</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1: Nikola Tesla and gay sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she wakes up, she doesn't remember anything.  
> Then she does, and she gets scared.  
> Luckily, she somewhat trusts the blonde boy who smells like freshly mowed grass, peppermints and wet wood. 
> 
> Because that's what you do when you're afraid of being raped, killed and/or enslaved.

_It almost has been back to normal in the Glade. The past two months were like the years before Thomas and Theresa showed up. The only difference being that they didn’t get a Greenbean every month._   
_Theresa was dead. Just like Chuck. They died when they jumped in the Griever Hole with Thomas. There was no exit, only more Grievers, and Thomas was the only one to get out._   
_Minho, Thomas and the other Runners are busy Running, plotting the Maze, searching for an exit. Alby and Newt are making sure everything goes well, or, in some people’s words, “bossing everyone around”. Gally picks fights with Thomas and Frypan makes excellent meals with the food that comes up with the Box every week._   
_But it can’t stay peaceful forever. That is why, on the night after the day the Box came up with supplies, when the Runners are just coming back from the Maze, one by one, an alarm rings._   
_The Newbie Alarm._

 

**Chapter one: Nikola Tesla and gay sex.**

 

 _Fuck, it's dark._ That's the first thing that pops up in her head when she opens her eyes. A loud, rumbling sound that reminds her of an old elevator fills her ears and the feeling of moving up very swiftly fills her belly.   
 She can't see anything -not even when she can  _feel_ her fingertips almost touching her eyeballs, and she can't see them.   
Then, she notices she can't remember anything. Where she came from, where she's going. Where she is and how she got in this room. She doesn't know her name, her age, what she looks like, doesn't remember any friends, family. Parents.   
 She does know a lot, and fact about the weirdest things fill her mind. Some facts are pretty useful -like medical information, or recipes for cooking. Farming, growing plants, slaughtering animals. She knows how to do it.   
 Some things that resemble memories fill her mind.   
The first time riding a bike. She knows the bike is blue and someone is behind her, talking to her, telling her she's doing a great job, but she can't hear the voice, only knows the words he's saying. She remembers cooking her first dinner -and burning it so bad she had to order pizza. She remembers meeting people that she feels are her friends, but she doesn't see faces and she doesn't remember names. Only a few traits.   
 One, always asking questions, always solving puzzles, always in for investigating things or doing experiments.   
Another, one who is always laughing, joking, teasing.   
 And another one, the last one. The only things she remembers about him are the way he smells -like freshly mowed grass, peppermint and wet wood. The way she feels when he's around, all calm, whatever is happening. And that he's a blonde.   
 More facts and kind-of memories come to mind, some facts barely useful and some memories bringing a blush to her cheeks.   
 _And where did I get all this information about gay sex? Did I read gay porn, or did I have two gay friends?_ It's kind of disturbing, all those facts in her head.   
Then, she hears a voice. In her memory.   
  _From now on, your name will be Nikita, like Nikola Tesla. Because you're smart like him, and you're brave. No, no buts. That is your name now, Nikki, and you better get used to it._  
She doesn't like the voice. She does know who Nikola Tesla was, though. She also knows the year in which he was born and the year he died. She also knows that was a long time ago -but how long?   
 This happens in only about two minutes, even though it feels like two hours to Nikita. Then, fear kicks in.   
She doesn't know where she is, she doesn't know where she's going. The only things she knows is that she's named after Nikola Tesla and how to best have gay sex.   
 And that's kind of frightening. 

After she's screamed for about half an hour, her throat is horse and her tears are dried up. She is huddled in a corner, where she only got after falling over something big, but soft. She doesn't know what it is and she doesn't  _want_ to know. She only wants to go back down- wherever that will lead her.   
 Then, suddenly, the elevator stops moving. Silence rings in her ears, painfully, and she's about to try and scream again, just so she can hear something, when a sound startles her and makes her push her back against the cold wall.   
 It's a loud clank, and after that a straight line of light appears across the ceiling and she closes her eyes against the light as it expands.   
  Double sliding doors open with a heavy grating sound, and suddenly the room is bathing in light.  
She shuts her eyes firmly and buries her face in her knees -nose in between of them so she has to breathe through her mouth.   
 It's silent for a second or two, then a voice that doesn't ring any bells, but somehow does, says something.   
 "It's a girl."   
"Well, that's bloody brilliant of you, klunkhead. We couldn't have figured it out without you, Thomas," another, sarcastic voice replies. Also this voice rings a bell but is also unfamiliar, as if she's never heard it in her life.   
 Then, it feels like hundreds of voices start talking at the same time, and still she can understand every word.   
 "It's a girl?"   
"Is she pretty?"   
 "Shanks, I call dibs. Thomas, hands off this time."  
"Shut up, Minho, let her decide."   
 "Oh, look at you, Tommy, going all Mr. Noble."  
"Can it, shanks?"  
 All the voices quiet down, but one sounds in the silence, clearer than any other.   
 "She's a redhead."   
This voice. It unlocks a name in her memory, but the name is gone before she can catch it. If you would tell her what the name was, she would slap her forehead and call out, "Right! That's it! Can't believe I forgot!" but for now, she doesn't remember and she's got nobody to tell her what the name was.   
 "Shuck it up, Gally. The colour of her hair ain't a problem. Now, she doesn't look dead but she looks scared out of her mind. Who's going down to get her?" a voice says, and this voice, it unlocks so many memories, but just like the name they fade before she can catch it.   
 One stays, though. It's a memory she got before, only one thing is added.   
It's the memory of meeting the three boys that she remembers, but also doesn't, and this voice. She knows it belongs to the blonde boy, the one that smells of freshly mowed grass, peppermint and wet wood. She knows it's him.   
 "Newt, you go. Your face is the least frightening of all of us," a deep voice says, the one that also made the other voices shut up.   
"What's that supposed to mean?" the voice that spoke second, with the sarcastic undertone that isn't completely gone, asks.   
 "That means that you're all klunkheads and Newt actually is able of looking like he's a nice shank," the voice says, and there are some words said that Nikita can't understand. Then, something lands in the elevator with her, but she doesn't look up.   
 It's only then that she's started quietly sobbing again, and her whole body is shaking.   
"Hey, are you okay?" the voice asks, and the just wants to cry louder because he's so familiar and he's so comforting. She just wants to bury her face in his chest and let him comfort her, tell her it's going to be all right.   
 But she can't. She doesn't know him. For all she knows, she might be send here to get killed, raped or enslaved.   
Or all of them, hell if she knows.   
 "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt ye, all right? I can't speak for all of 'em shanks up there, but I won't hurt you, and I'll try to make sure the others won't either," the voice continues, and she likes the honesty. She likes that he tells her he can't promise her anything but something he can do.   
 She lifts her head and blazing green eyes, filled with unshed tears look at the boy who jumped down.   
He smiles when he notices her eyes on him, trailing from his blonde hair to his brown eyes, to his dirty and sweat drenched clothing.   
"I know I'm dirty, but I hadn't had a chance to clean up yet. Workday's not over yet, and then you yourself showed up..." he says, noticing what she's looking at.   
She nods, looking him in the eyes again. He smiles, and she might kind of smile back. At least, she tries, and he seems to notice that because he extends his hand at her.   
She looks at it for a while, doubling over her options, and then grabs it. She's surprised when she sees her own hand. It's so, tiny, compared to his. She's got long, slender fingers but a very tiny hand. Her nails are oval and she's got black nail polish with a silver edge.   
 He pulls her up and smiles at her again. "There, much better. I'm Newt, and welcome to the Maze. Let me get you out of here. That yours?" he nods towards something, and she sees that he means a white sports bag with a blue logo she doesn't recognise. She shrugs to tell him she doesn't know, but it probably should be since it was in here with her.   
 He smiles again and puts a hand on her shoulder as he grabs the bag with the other hand. "Not very talkative, are you?" he says, and she doesn't answer.   
 The fact that he kind of smiles tells her he didn't expect her to.   
"Alby, throw the rope down!" he -Newt- says, and a few seconds later a rope dangles in front of them. The end is tied in a big loop, and getting the idea she steps in it with her right foot and hold onto the rope tightly with both her hands.   
 She looks up at Newt  -who is much taller than her- and he nods with a smile. "It's all right. I'll be coming up right after ye. Guys, pull her up!"   
The rope starts moving and she is being pulled up. She keeps looking Newt in the eyes, from where she has to look up, to where she is at eye level with him, until she can't see him anymore because hands are pulling her up and her knees are touching the ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was the first chapter. It wasn't very long, but I find myself enjoying short chapters more than long chapters, so... yeah, whatever 
> 
> So I'm kind of new to this site, so I'm hoping I'm doing it all right. I've been reading here but not writing, so... Comment? Give me tips? That kind of things?
> 
> BTW: There might or might not be romance in this story, I haven't quite decided yet, but it won't be focusing on romance much, even if it's in there :)


	2. 2: Let's have a Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which she surprises Newt in liking the things she does. 
> 
> She still doesn't speak, though.

**2: Let's have a tour**

 

They are all boys. Her eyes are taking them all in as they get Newt out of the Box -that's what they call it anyway.   
 They are all boys. All of them. Some are young, some are older. The oldest would probably be nineteen, and the youngest around fifteen. There have to be at least fifty of them, clothes sweaty and covered in muck as if they’d been hard at work, just like Newt. All different shapes, sizes and races, their hair of varying lengths.   
 As she takes them in, she finds some eyes on her, but as she crosses them she quickly looks away. This draws out some giggles.   
Closest by are three people: The first one is tall, muscular and dark-skinned, who is pulling Newt up. He seems to be one of the older ones in here. The other two are a pale guy with dark hair and greyish blue eyes who is helping the first guy and a thick heavily-muscled Asian kid who is standing there with his arms folded, studying her with his eyes as she looks at the biceps that his rolled-up sleeves are showing.   
 The other boys are standing a little further away, but not more than a few feet.   
She scans them again, but no signs of any girls.   
 She hears feet hit the ground, and when she looks over her shoulder she sees Newt smiling at her.   
"See, I told you they don't bite," he says, and she kind of shyly smiles.   
 "Like Newt already told you, welcome to the Glade," the tall, muscular kid says. She looks at him, meets his eyes and then looks at the ground again. She nods.  
"Griever got ya tongue, Greenie?" a voice calls, and a few boys laugh. She doesn't do anything to show them that she heard him, just lifts her head to look at the tall guy again.   
 "Forgive him for his manners, he's Alby," Newt says, somehow noticing she wants to know his name. "That over there is Thomas," the pale guy with the dark hair waves a little. A small smile fights its way to her lips as she waves back. "And that's Minho," the Asian kid nods, and she kind of nods back.   
 "What's your name?" Alby asks, and she meets his eyes, and then looks at the ground again.   
"Don't matter, Alby. She'll speak up," Newt says, and she feels like looking up at him and smiling at him, but all the eyes watching her stop her.   
  She looks around to see where the elevator brought her. She –and the boys- are standing in a vast courtyard, several times the size of a football field. It’s surrounded by four enormous walls, made of grey stone and covered in spots with thick ivy. The walls have to be at least a few hundred feet high, and form a perfect square around the courtyard, each side split in the exact middle by an opening as tall as the walls themselves. The openings lead, for as far as she can see, to passages and long corridors.   
 While she's looking around, some people snigger and the guy who asked if a Griever -whatever the hell that might be- got her tongue, and also said the "she's a redhead" sentence, opens his damned mouth again.   
  “Look at the Greenbean. Gonna break her pretty little redhead neck checking out the digs,” he's got a scratchy voice, and it's as disturbing as it's oddly comforting.   
"Shuck it up, Gally," Newt says, sounding annoyed, and she kind of gets the idea nobody likes this Gally.   
 Not that she can blame them, he's not being saying very nice things so far, but hey. She's not judging him, maybe it's his way of coping with this situation, whatever it is?  
So, this place is called the Glade. Kind of has a familiar ring to it, just like the words she's never heard before. Griever. Greenie. Shuck. Klunk. Shank. They're like words she has heard for a long time, but forgotten about.   
The floor of the courtyard looks like it’s made of huge stone blocks, cracked and filled with long grasses and weeds. An odd dilapidated wooden building near one of the corners of the square contrasts greatly with the grey stone. A few trees surround it, their roots like gnarled hands digging into the rock for food and water.   
Another corner of the Glade holds gardens –from where she’s standing she recognises corn, tomato plants and some fruit trees.   
 Across the courtyard from there stand wooden pens holding sheep and pigs and cows.   
A large grove of trees fills the final corner. The closest ones look crippled and close to dying. The sky above her head is cloudless and blue, and even though it’s probably only late afternoon and very bright, there is no sun to be seen.  
 The creeping shadows of the walls don’t reveal time or direction. It’s only her guts that tell her it’s late afternoon –almost time for dinner. As she breathes in deeply, a mixture of smells beg for recognition. Freshly turned dirt, manure, pine, rotten things, sweet things.   
 The smells of a farm.   
"Everybody back to work! Dinner's in an hour. Till then, Newt, you give her the Tour? She seems to be okay around you, so I think it'd be better if it were you than me," Alby says, and Newt nods. "Yeh, can do that. I was busy in the Gardens. You take over?" he asks, and the guy named Thomas interrupts. "Since Minho and I are back early today we can take over?" he suggests, and both Alby and Newt nod at that.   
 Minho, however, doesn't. "What? Dude, what do you think I want? Constant work with no break? I deserve a break after today, man!" he almost whines, but since everybody smiles Nikita guesses it's normal.   
 "What happened today wasn't much, Minho. C'mon, let's get to work," Thomas says and pulls the Asian boy with him, who's protesting audibly, but everybody ignores him.   
 The crowd thins out and soon it's only her and Newt standing in the middle of the Glade.   
 "Well," Newt says with his thick, odd accent that she already likes very much, "let's start your tour."

"This is the Box. Once a week we get supplies, clothes, some food. We don’t need a lot, we pretty much run ourselves here,” he explains. "We don't know jack about the Box. Where it comes from, who sends it up. Nothing.   
 The Glade’s cut into four sections. The Gardens, the Blood House, the Homestead and the Deadheads. You got that?” She nods, then looks him in the eye and shakes her head.   
 He smiles and  points at the northeast corner, where the fields and fruit trees are located. “Gardens – where we grow the crops. Water’s pumped in through pipes in the ground, always has been, or we’d have starved to death a long time ago. Never rains here. Always the same bloody weather.”   
 He points at the southeast corner, at the animal pens and barn. “Blood House. Where we raise and slaughter animals.” He points at the pitiful living quarters. “Homestead. Stupid place is twice as big than when the first of us got here because we keep addin’ to it when they send us wood and klunk. Ain’t pretty, but it works. Most of us sleep outside anyway."  
 Then Newt points at the southwest corner, the forest area fronted with several sickly trees and branches. “Call that the Deadheads. Graveyard’s back in that corner, in the thicker woods. Ain’t much else. Some nights we gather there around a campfire –Gally makes his stuff, we get drunk. That kind of shit. You’ll spend the next two weeks working one day each for our different job Keepers. Until we find out what you’re best at, at least. Builder, Slopper, Cook Bricknick, Med-Jack, Bagger, Runner, Track-hoe, Slicer. Something sticks. It always does," he says, and some of those words explain themselves, but she wants explanations of them. What they are.  
 When he sees her looking, he explains every one of them, and at the end he asks if she likes it or not. She surprises him by liking the jobs she does. Builder, Cook, Med-Jack, Runner and Slicer. Especially the first one and the last two surprise him.   
 "Well, we can have you try them out. Let's do the Runner one last, though. If you found something else before that, that'd be preferred. Because, y'know, being a Runner is kind of dangerous. I'm not underestimating you because you're a  girl, just... It's dangerous for everyone of us," she sees something in his eyes, fear maybe? But before she can take note of what it is exactly, he is smiling again and the expression is gone.   
 "There are forty-five minutes left 'till we're gonna have dinner. Something you wanna check out?" 


	3. 3: "She stays. She definitely stays."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nikita makes dinner and Minho never wants to let her go. 
> 
> Also, Frypan gets mad and maybe cries a little when he sees the state of his kitchen after he's been gone for like, just five minutes.

**3: "She stays. She definitely stays."**

 

Since she still didn't utter a word, it takes a little time before Newt gets that she wants to go to the kitchen.   
 "You wanna help make dinner?" he asks, and she nods. He frowns, then asks her why. Since she can't shake or nod to that question, she just shrugs. She just wants to do something, instead of sulking or waiting for something to happen. She feels this urge to help, do something.   
"Can you talk, or are you just shy?" Newt asks as they head towards the kitchen. She thinks about it for a second, then decides that she can talk. She could scream in the Box, that means she can talk, right? So she nods.   
 "Is that yes, you can talk, or yes, you are shy? Or yes to both of them?" he asks, and then laughs. She likes the sound of it. "I'm sorry, I just... I ask too many questions for someone who doesn't talk to answer. Let me do that again. Can you talk?" She nods, and she also nods at the "Are you shy?" and then he smiles.   
 When they enter the kitchen, a tall guy with a beard -he looks old, but when Nikita pictures him without the beard, she'd say he's eighteen or nineteen- greets them. "Newt! Greenie! Hey, how ya doin'?" he asks, and Newt grins.   
 "We're great. She wanted to go to the kitchen- where are you going?" she has detached herself from Newt's hip -okay, so she stuck around him because he felt safe. Now boohoo, go cry over it. Let her be- and walks towards the sink. She washes her hands and then looks at the recipe the boy has pulled out to cook tonight. She picks it up and gives it back to him.   
 "What are you doing?" he asks, and she looks around. There she sees a notepad and a pen. She walks over to it quickly, Newt following her closely.   
She scribbles her words down quickly, but is pleasantly surprised as it turns out she has a pretty handwriting.   
  
  _Want to thank you for being so nice to me and letting me be in the not-talking stuff. Want to make dinner_  
  
Newt looks at her, then shows the note to the boy. He shrugs. "Girl, do you know how to?" She scoffs -actually makes a sound- and rolls her eyes. It's obvious to the boys she does.   
 "Okay. Go wild. But, not literally. I want to keep my kitchen clean, please," he says. "What do you need for ingredients?" he asks, and she grins.   
 She scribbles it down, together with the recipe when the boys have no idea what she wants to make.   
 Seriously, this is a basic recipe. How can they not know it?   
When she starts, the boy -who has introduced him as Frypan- wants to help her, but she just shakes her head.   
 "For all of us? Are you going to manage in time?"   
So she lets them help. But she does the baking, they the preparing. 

 

Frypan's gone. He's been going to get more eggs, and somehow Nikita manages to get her face in the flour.   
 To her defence, it isn't her fault. It really isn't.   
"She's looking at us like she's going to kill us," Thomas whispers to Minho, and as she wipes off the flour of her face she glares at him.   
 "We're Runners. We can outrun her. And if it'd come to it, we can win from her. You won from Grievers, remember? This can't be anymore difficult," Minho whispers back. Newt is just leaning against the wall with an amused smile on his face.   
 She isn't mad at them, not really, she's just playing with them. She has a hard time to keep her laughter in, actually.   
 "She's more scary though," Thomas says, this time louder than a whisper, and this makes her take a step closer to the two boys. She's standing in between them and the door, so they can't escape. They're looking very scared, huddled together, as if she's an actual threat.   
 And then to think about the story Newt told her -about the two being the first to survive a night in the Maze. What Thomas did. What Minho did. The fights that followed -he managed to make her laugh when he acted out the scene in which Gally went psycho.    
 She takes another step closer and they step back. Then, suddenly, without any warning she charges at them. They shriek like girls and try to jump away -Thomas to the left, Minho to the right. She kicks Thomas's leg so he falls over and knocks over some supplies on the counter. She grabs Minho's arm and yanks him back, using the momentum to knock their heads together.   
 When she steps back, the two are lying on the floor together, covered in flour, broken raw eggs, milk and some things that she can't even identify.   
They're a mess.   
 She walks back to where she was working and goes on, hearing Newt snigger quietly as the two boys try getting up, but keep on slipping over the eggs and the milk.   
 "What happened in here?" Frypan is standing inside, glaring white hot daggers at Thomas and Minho. Nikita sniggers but keeps quiet, finishing the last parts of dinner.   
"I think she's done. Are you?" Newt asks, and when she nods he helps her by grabbing all the plates he can carry and limping over to the dinner room.   
 "I've been gone for five minutes! And why is it always you two that make a mess! I'm serious, I'm going to make a complaint at Alby's adres  and make him throw your buts in the slammer with only water and bread!"   
 And Nikita won't tell anyone, but she swears she can even see something wet blinking on Frypan's cheek as he takes in the ravage that his kitchen turned into. 

 

"What is this for food?" Gally asks, having only looked at it and maybe even poked at it with his fork.   
 "I don't know man, ask the girl," Frypan says. "She made dinner. But I swear to God, she's a better cook than Thomas."   
"That's not difficult," Nikita swears she can hear Gally say that and a little giggle escapes her lips. Gally looks up at her, seems to doubt between being an asshole or being nice, ending up in just nodding at her with some kind of smile -that he clearly is fighting-on his face.   
 "What's it called, Newt? She told you, right?" Frypan asks, and the blonde nods, mouth full of food. "Yeah, she wrote down that it's something called pancakes. They taste familiar, though I can't recall eating or making them," he says when he swallowed.   
 "Guys, this is absolutely amazing. We're keeping her. She's a keeper. We ain't getting rid of her. Gally, don't threaten to kill this one, she's amazing. She stays, she definitely stays," Minho moans, shoving his food in his face.   
 Nikita giggles only and returns to her own food. She might be somewhat captive here, but at least the people in here are okay. Even this Gally, that nobody seems to like, seems to be an okay guy.   
 "Hey, it's almost time for going back to bed. If ye want, we can get you a sleeping bag and a pillow and ye can sleep next to us," Newt proposes, and she shrugs, then looking at him questionly.   
 "Us means me, Thomas, Minho and maybe Alby. Depends on his mood," he explains, and she nods. She likes the boys, so she'll be able to get a good night's sleep next to them.   
Hopefully, without any nightmares.  
  
  
She's sitting with her back against the tree, the white sports bag next to her, watching the boys. She found herself lying awake, wondering what was in her bag. Newt had looked into it for a second and told her it is hers, so she took it with her to where they brought her a sleeping bag.   
 Now, the boys are all asleep -for the last thirty minutes or so, she's doubted, but Thomas just talks in his sleep. Mostly names. Sometimes the names of people she knows, like Minho or Newt, once or twice even Gally. Most of the time it are just two names -two names she hasn't heard before. Theresa and Chuck.   
 She wonders for a few seconds who they are, then decides it isn't her business.   
 When she's sure all the boys are asleep, she opens up the bag. The first thing she sees are high, black leather boots. They don't have heels, but they're clearly girlboots, so that's how Newt knew it was her bag.   
 She takes them off and puts them next to her. They look comfortable, and better fit for running and walking than the sneakers she finds next. They're black with a gold logo that she doesn't recognise, but it's the same as on the bag, only a different colour.   
 There is clothing. Lots of clothing. Five light blue skinny jeans like she's wearing now. It's comfortable and it stretches when she moves. It feels like a second skin. There are thirteen black tanktops, also identical to the one she's wearing. There are seven black hoodies, with two pockets in the front and a hood that hides her eyes in shadows. It looks nice and warm, but it's only the next thing she puts on.   
 It's a big, greyish sweater. She puts it on, and it's too big but that doesn't matter. It somewhat calms her down, somewhat makes her feel a little more at home. It smells like freshly washed clothing, but also like burning wood, leaves and something she identifies as cigarettes.   
 She finds seven pairs of socks, and they're also black. Black is fine, she thinks.  _I like black._  
There are even a few hairbands in there, and she smiles thankfully for the hairbrush she finds. She brushes her hair quietly, groaning softly at how stubborn her hair is. Then she ties it back with one of the rubber hairbands, and when she rests her head against the three again it's a little better, not having her hair in her face.   
 When the bag is empty she finds out that there's a hidden layer in it. There are also two other side pockets she wants to look into, but she ignores them for now and opens the hidden layer.   
 The first thing that comes out is a black leather belt with two long knives in it that would be positioned on the front of her hips, and three daggers. One at her back, two at her sides. They're clearly made for throwing, and when she tries out one it ends up in the wood, exactly where she wanted it to be.    
 Clearly, she's a natural.   
There are also an envelope and a little, black box in there. The box is hold closed by another rubber band, and when she removes it and opens the box, she almost laughs out loud.   
 Whoever packed the bag knew she'd be a girl in an area of boys, so they packed her tampons.   
Then she opens the envelope and reads the letter. It takes her three sentences for her to recognise the handwriting as her own.   
  
  
  _If anything they told me is true, you're sitting somewhere with your hair tied back -if you found the rubbers and the brush, which you probably will- and with the grey sweater on. It smells like home, doesn't it? It's not yours, but probably you've figured that out already. It's big on you, but he always told me it looked good on me.  
 It's my brother's. His name was Daniel, like my name was Emily before they took us.   
 Now my name is Tesla, but I can't tell you your brother's name. It's a Variable so I'm not supposed to tell. Have you had the Tour yet? Probably, but maybe you haven't seen the Griever. Newt will take you, first thing in the morning.   
 Does he still smell of wet wood, peppermints and freshly mowed grass? And are Thomas and Minho still complete idiots that are so loveable you can only laugh when they do something stupid?   
 I know Thomas talks in his sleep, but don't question him who Chuck and Theresa are. If he's ready, he'll tell you.   
There's not much I can tell you, but there are a few things you should know. I don't know how much you remember, but I hope you know how to use a tampon. If you don't, there's another letter explaining it in the little black box. You're going to need it. Do I need to explain how it works? I don't thinks so, because the guys all understand _their  _stupid puberty problems, so probably you'll understand yours._  
 Anyway, here's a list of things you need to remember:   


_I- If you're insisting on killing them, weaken them first. Then hit the eyes. That's the weak spot, Tesla. The eyes._  
    II- The Cliff, whatever they tell you, is a no-go. It's a death sentence, Tesla. Stay away from there.   
    III-Trust the boys. All of them. Even Gally, who can be a lying piece of apeshit sometimes -most of times- but he's trustable, and reliable. Trust him, because he will protect you. Even if you anger him sometimes. (He's a nice guy, truly, just get to know him. The key to his respect is beat him at his own game.)   
    IV- The exit is closer than anyone might think and at the same time further than anyone has gone.   
    V- Hights are cool. Hiking is your thing. You climb like a baby of a chipmunk and a monkey. Hights, Tesla. Rise and shine.   
    VI- No matter what anyone says or believes, "Wicked is Good" is more of a lie than -I would say Thomas and Minho aren't a gay couple, but they weren't together when I said goodbye to Minho and they aren't together when I'm writing this, so I guess that doesn't work. So it's more of a lie then saying "Obama was white." You remember Obama? First black president of the United States of Amerika? Remember? Whatever. Just know that Wicked IS NOT Good. Nope.   
    VII- This ain't no fairytale, Tesla. Watch your back and the backs of your loved ones. And perhaps everyone else's. They'll need it, they're all blind assholes. But I love them either way, and probably, so will you.   
    VIII- Your period starts in a week from the day in which you arrive. It's horrible. The first day is somewhat okay -you'll get a headache before the bleeding starts, so make sure to get a tampon in it before it does- and the second day is hell. I killed a hamster on the second day of another period I had. Take painkillers -maybe request some when the Box goes down? Oh, shit, the Box already has gone down. Well, the next time the Box comes up, tape a note to it saying -Need painkillers for period -Tesla - and you'll get them for your next period. Do the same when you run out of tampons. Day two can consist of screaming, crying, fighting, dangerous things with knives, cravings for chocolate, puking, terrible stomach cramps, headache, muscular ache, back ache, hoarse throat, more puking and a lot, a whole lot of crying. Day three is more emotionally stable, but there's still the puking, and the ache everywhere. The craving for chocolate might still be there. On day four, as soon as you're headache is gone, you're not bleeding anymore.   
    IX- I don't want you getting pregnant, okay, so if you can't resist falling in love -which I can understand, they're all handsome and sometimes even nice- please, use a condom. Request them at the box, use the ones in the side pocket of this bag. Or don't have sex, seriously. You don't want to get pregnant while in the Maze, kiddo. Just... Tesla, don't.   
    X- You're just as good as them boys, your tongue is sharper and your wit is bigger. You dare a lot and your courage is as big as your stupidity, just like Thomas. You're fast, but don't go testing them on brute strength. You'll lose that battle, Tesla.   
    XI- The boots are for Running. Not for Farming, Slicing, or whatever. JUST. FOR. RUNNING.   
    XII- there are pictures of Samantha and Daniel -your brother and sister- in the side pocket. The picture of Daniel is old, so you won't recognise him. There is also a picture of you, Minho, Thomas and Newt. And there's a picture of your cat, Rusty. Also, a chocolate bar. Save it for the cravings on day two, I'm serious. It could save a hamster life. And since there are no hamsters in there, it might save a boy's life.   
  


 

_That's about all I can tell you, Tesla. Nikita. I don't know what name you'll remember. They named me Nikita, after Nikola Tesla, but they always called me Tesla, so I don't know what name will stick around. Pick one, I don't really care at the point where you'll be._  
  
Love, Tesla. You. Me. Whatever. I don't care. Just, it's you before you lost your memory. If you get what I mean.   
  
PS: GET THE FUCK OUT OF THAT MAZE BEFORE SOMEONE DIES, SERIOUSLY. You probably have some time, but you won't have another two years. They want results, so you need to hurry up.   
  



	4. 4: "Suck a dick"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nikita Tesla learns what a Griever is, gets her job-for-one-day as a Slicer and she overhears something she shouldn’t. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, her first words surprise everyone.

**4: Suck a dick.**

 

"Hey, wake up. C'mon, gotta show ye something," the already familiar voice wakes her up, and when it does she makes sure to hide the photographs she's holding. She's holding them under her pillow in her right hand. She lets go of them and yawns as she stretches out.   
 "Okay, I'll give you a minute to get dressed. Ye can do that here, or wherever ye want, but the guys are still asleep. Minho and Thomas and the other Runners will wake up in a few though, so hurry up," Newt tells her, and she nods. When he's gone, she gets out the photographs and looks at them for a second more.   
 Her brother has light brown hair and blueish, greyish eyes. He's smiling widely and waving at the camera. He can't be much older than eleven, and somehow he seems familiar to her but she can't tell who it is in the Glade. At least, that's what she figured out. That her brother is also in the Glade.   
 Her little sister has her brother's hair colour but her green eyes. She's little, smiling big at the camera, and she is so familiar but also so new that it almost hurts.   
 She pulls off the sweater -her brother's sweater- and folds it up to put it in her bag. She pulls out a clean tank top, her jeans from yesterday and a clean hoodie. She pulls them on quickly, and when Newt comes back she's putting some socks on.   
 "So, you found shoes in your bag?" he asks and she nods, pulling out the boots. She likes them, and whatever she's going to do today, if it's something dirty like Gardening or Slicing she'll change into her sneakers. Or just no shoes at all.   
 "Ready to go? You really should tell me your name sometime, it's kind of confusing to think 'bout ye or talk to ye and not knowing your name," Newt says as he walks her to the wall of the Glade. She smiles and shrugs, not really comfortable with talking just yet. She doesn't know why, but she just doesn't want to talk.   
 Hopefully that'll come back, because the letter kind of gave her the impression that she loved to talk about important and less important things. Or maybe that's just with writing.   
  
Newt stood just over half a metre in front of the thick curtain of ivy on the wall outside. "We're here. Now, just wait and I'll see if there's one outside," he says. He steps forward and digs his hands into the thick ivy. He spreads several vines away from the wall to reveal a dustfrosted window, a square about half a metre wide. It is dark at the moment, as if it’s been painted black.   
 She stands next to him and looks through the window, not seeing anything. She looks at him and raises an eyebrow.   
“Hold your panties, shank. One’ll be comin’ along soon enough.”  
 A minute passes, then two. Several more. Nikita has averted her eyes from the window and now is looking at Newt, noticing she can stand there, perfectly patient and still, just like him, without much effort.  
 Then Newt makes a little sound and when she looks at the window, the darkness has gone. Glimmers of an eerie light shine through the window; it casts a wavering spectrum of colours on Newt’s body and face, as if he’s standing next to a lighted swimming pool.  
 Nikita steps a little closer, her shoulder brushing Newt’s, and is trying to make out what’s on the other side of the window, more fascinated than scared.  
“Out there’s the Maze,” Newt whispers, eyes wide as if in a trance. “Everything we do- our whole life- revolves around the Maze. Every lovin’ second of every lovin’ day we spend in honour of the Maze, tryin’ to solve somethin’ that’s not shown us it has a bloody solution, ya know? And we want to show ya why it’s not to be messed with. Show ya why them buggin’ walls close shut every night. Show ya why you should never, never find your butt out there. Only the Runners go out there, like I told you yesterday. It's a dangerous affair, out there. Especially at night. Nobody survived a bloody night in there. No one, until Thomas came along and then they did. He and Minho, I mean. For the rest nobody yet, but it shows that we can survive out there, if we're smart enough and if we don't give up. Alby survived out there too, but that's another story. He didn't have anything to do with that," Newt chuckles quietly and she laughs along with him.   
Then it happens. What Newt was waiting for. What he wanted to show her.   
  
A large, bulbous creature the size of a cow but with no distinct shape twists and seethes along the ground in the corridor outside. It climbs the opposite wall, then leaps at the thick-glassed window with a loud thumb. 

 Nikita blinks, but wills  herself not to scream or to step back. The only reaction the jump got out of her was her reaching for something she can’t find. Then she realises her hand is looking for one of the knifes in the belt she found in her bag.  
  _Hit it in the eyes._ She now knows it’s this creature that the letter spoke about.  
 It’s too dark to make out clearly, but odd lights flash from an unknown course, revealing blurs of silver spikes and glistening flesh. Wicked instrument-tipped appendages protruded from its body like arms: a saw blade, a set of shears, long rods whose purpose can only be guessed.  
 Though Nikita can make a pretty good educated guess, by the looks of the things.  
The creature is a genius mix of animal and machine, and seems to realise it’s being observed, seems to know what lies inside the walls of the Glade, seems to want to get inside to do god-knows-what. Ruin, rampage, eat.  
 She can’t find anything that even remotely looks like an eye, though.  
She wants to ask something, but only nudges Newt's arm with her shoulder, not looking away from the creature that intrigues her. If somebody can make something like _this_ , then what are the other possibilities in this world she lives in?  
 “Gievers, we call ‘em. Nasty bugger, eh? Just be glad they only come out at night. Be thankful for these walls,” he says, and it sounds like something that is supposed to keep her inside the walls, but it only makes her want to get out. She wants to face the creature in battle, fight it. Win from it.   
 Probably those arms would give her a hard time, but when she looked at the joints it wouldn’t be difficult to cut off the arms. She just has to be fast, she can cut off the arms. Then, look for the eyes –maybe the glinstering black she saw before it turned around? It's too dark for her to make out what it was, but it could've been eyes.   
   
"So, Greenie, you saw the Grievers, didn't you?" she hears footsteps approaching and as she turns around she sees Minho and Thomas walking towards them. She steps away from the window and nods. Newt lets go of the ivy and turns around, just like her.   
 "Hey, Doors are opening in a second. You getting ready?" Newt asks and the two nod. "Yeah, we're going out together today," Thomas says, and the way he says it makes her giggle.   
"What?" Minho asks, quite defensively.   
 She shakes her head but is still laughing.   
More people are awake and she's aware of more eyes on her, but when Minho keeps on asking her what's to laugh about -even cracks some jokes about it that makes it even worse- she opens her mouth.   
 "Just go and admit you're going to suck his dick, Minho," she says, and silence falls over the Maze. It's interrupted by the Walls opening and someone laughing. Then another person joins in and soon it's only the people sleeping and Minho and Thomas that aren't laughing.   
 "Okay, so, that's the best first words I've ever heard a Greenie say," Gally walks up to them and grins at the girl. "I like you," he also says, and she grins.   
"I like you too. When you're not being a klunk piece of apeshit, that is," she says, and she laughs softly when she sees his face.   
"Fine, whatever," he mutters and he walks away again.   
 Minho and Thomas have recovered and start saying things that don't make sense, not much at least.   
"C'mon guys, the Doors are open. Shouldn't you be going?" she then asks. The boys glare at her half heartily  and then leave.   
 "Now that you're talking, what's your name?" Newt asks, and she smiles up at him. "Tesla. Nikita. After Nikola Tesla. I was born with another name but the Creators -that's what you name them, right?- they gave me this name. They named me after Nikola Tesla, told me my name was now Nikita. They only called me Tesla, though. So, feel free to call me whatever," she says, and she notices that now she is talking, she isn't that shy anymore.   
 How can she, with the things she said first?   
Newt grins. "Look, I got a job to do today. You're wanting to be a Cook, Med-Jack, Builder, Runner or Slicer, right? What'ya wanna get started with?" He asks. She thinks about it for a second. "Let me start with slicing animals up. I think after seeing that Griever thing I wouldn't mind taking some lives to feel more secure," she says, and he smiles.   
 "Fine. Let's get you a knife, then. When you work with the Slicers, you'll have your own knife. Get down with me to the armoury and-" she interrupts him. "I've already got a knife. Two, actually. They were in the bag that they gave me," she explains, and he nods. "Well, go get them and go to the Blood House. Tell Winston you're with him for the day."   
  
She's got her belt around her hips and she's only got the two knives. The daggers she left behind. She's walking towards the Blood House, on her way being stopped by several boys that introduce themselves. She tells them that she's Nikita, or Tesla, whatever is to their liking, and she seems to have a charming effect on most of them. They seem to like her.   
 When she passes the Doors, she hears a few words that make her stop in her tracks.   
 "How did she know?" Thomas is whispering feverishly to Minho, the two acting like they're getting ready to Run, but she hears them.   
"I don't know? Girl instincts?" Minho suggests, not seeming effected very much. She smiles and decides to keep walking.   
 "I just hope nobody takes it seriously. I'm so not ready for it to get out there. And if I am, I want it to be me and you that tell everyone, not her. I like her, that's not the point, but..."   
And with Thomas' words she also decides that she'll keep it a secret.   
  


"You're a natural, but that's all the animals that we need dead for today," Winston tells her and she nods. She grabs her knife and cleans it under the sink. Most of the blood is fresh and comes off easily, but some is already dried and takes some scrubbing. "What do you do if it isn't slaughter the animals?" she asks, and he smiles at her -kind of, he's like pulling the corners of his mouth up but it's kind of creepy- while cleaning his own knife.   
 "We raise, feed and take care of the animals so they get old enough to be slaughtered," he says, and yes, that makes sense.   
"So, what you want me to do?" she asks, and he takes her outside to tell her what animals to take care off.   
  
  
"So, how was your day as a Slicer?" She's lying in her sleeping bag, in only her panties and the grey sweater. She changed in the privacy the Homestead brought and then got out to lie in between Newt and Minho, Thomas lying next to the latter.   
 "It was great. I really like it. Winston said I'm a natural. In handling the animals as well as the actual killing," she says, and she tells how she knew how to slaughter the pig before Winston even told her how. "That's amazing. What do you want to try out tomorrow?"   
 "I don't know, give me something so I can work with my hands, maybe? I don't know," she says, and he smiles. "I'll give ye to Gally for the day, to see what a Builder is being like. If he likes what you do, he'll tell you to come back another day before you officially get your job assigned. I know he can be an asshole sometimes, so if he's being a klunkhead, come and find me, okay?" She nods and smiles. "Course I will, Newt. And I'll keep my weapons with me, just in case. I don't know, I just feel more comfortable with them on me."   
 They talk for some more time, and when Newt gets up to go to take a piss before he goes to sleep, she quietly tells Minho and Thomas that it's not her secret to tell and she'll shut up about it. They look at her with big eyes and question her how she knew it was true, and she only had time to reply, "I'm a girl, and apparently I know more about gay stuff than I know about slaughtering animals, and as you've heard that says something," before Newt comes back.   
 She sleeps as soon as she closes her eyes and relaxes, feeling safe under the eyes of Newt, Thomas and Minho, even if they're closed and they're sleeping.   
 Maybe the knife that she's holding under her pillow together with the two pictures helps with that feeling of safety.   


 

 

 

 

 

[Kinda sorta how I imagine a Griever...](https://38.media.tumblr.com/2993e0085ad311693e590ee27094bcd5/tumblr_ne0yjg2IIV1te1r62o1_1280.jpg)

 

 

  



End file.
